Jesse watched his daughter hurry through the half-plowed field, making a beeline toward the barn. She won’t leave a single stone unturned, he assumed.
He had not shown an iota of interest in Annie’s pen pal through the years, and he didn’t feel he’d been kept in the dark by either Annie or her mother. Still it was hard not to wonder about the young woman’s motives. Was Louisa simply curious, as were the gawking tourists?
Thirsty now, he began to make his way across the furrowed soil, turning his thoughts to Caleb Esh’s comments about Annie and Rudy. He hadn’t been able to dismiss them, even though the grapevine was entirely unreliable. Yet knowing Rudy as he did, it was perplexing why a staunch young man had not been able to persuade Annie to marry. It didn’t add up. Something’s peculiar with that. . . .
Then it dawned on him—Annie was surely stronger-willed than her former beau, and maybe more so than a good number of the young men in the church district. He found this realization not only startling but secretly a bit satisfying. Annie knew her mind, that was clear. Having seen the earnestness in her eyes regarding her English friend’s visit, for instance, Jesse thought he might at least run it by the other preacher, Moses Hochstetler, Zeke’s elderly uncle. Then, if need be, he’d work his way up to the bishop.
We’ll just see what’s what.
All-in from the day, he made his way through the barnyard toward the road. When he came near to the back door, he caught a whiff of what smelled like beef stew and hurried inside to investigate.
A fine meal by the best cook ever, he thought, going and slipping his arm around his wife’s stout waist. Accustomed to his furtive interest prior to meals, she lifted the kettle lid. Jesse leaned into the fragrant steam, eyes closed, breathing in . . . then turned to the woman he loved and planted a kiss on her soft face. ‘‘Keep this simmerin’ a bit longer,’’ he said, winking.
‘‘Why, sure.’’ She smiled knowingly, leaning toward him.
‘‘I’ll be makin’ a quick trip out.’’
‘‘All right then, love,’’ she said. ‘‘Stew and corn bread will be waitin’.’’
With the memory of the mouth-watering aroma lingering, he hurried out to hitch up his fastest driving horse to the family carriage.
Annie found Yonie already starting the afternoon milking. She stood near the center aisle of the milking area, seeing two rows of cows’ hind parts and tails, and below, the manure ditch. She waited for Yonie to see her, and when he did, she motioned to him.
He sauntered over to her once all the cows were hooked up to air compressor-run milkers. His hazel eyes were bright with the question. ‘‘Well?’’
‘‘I did what you said. But Daed’s goin’ to think about it. So who knows.’’
‘‘You worry too much.’’ He flashed an infectious grin.
‘‘Seems to me I’m allowed to fret a bit. You haven’t spent nearly a lifetime writing to Louisa Stratford. This might be my only chance to meet her.’’
He frowned momentarily, and then there came the twinkle in his eye. ‘‘Hmm. Stratford. Sounds like a high and mighty name for a best friend, ain’t?’’
She didn’t know where on earth he’d gotten the idea Louisa was that close to her. Not unless Mamm had mentioned something, which was unlikely. Other than their mother, nobody knew of Annie’s close friendship with Louisa except . . .
‘‘Wait a minute! Have you been talkin’ to Mrs. Zimmerman?’’
Yonie grinned. She’d caught him. ‘‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out.’’
‘‘Well, I just did!’’ She should’ve put it together the instant Yonie had declared Louisa as her best friend. Mrs. Zimmerman was their busybody mail carrier, and her daughter, Dory, was one of the prettiest English neighbors around. So Yonie was interested in the local girls—just not Amish ones.
Yonie suddenly looked sheepish.
‘‘Aha!’’ Annie exclaimed. ‘‘I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. Jah?’’
‘‘Nothin’ to keep, you silly.’’ With that he turned back to attend to the milking.
I know better, she thought, for she’d seen the blush of embarrassment on his face. Well, no wonder Yonie wasn’t so keen on attending singings and other youth activities. She just hoped he didn’t do something stupid, like fall hard for the wrong girl . . . like Louisa had surely fallen for the wrong fellow.
She headed back to the house, hoping to hear something soon from Daed, trying to remain optimistic.
‘‘As a father, I’m concerned ’bout Annie’s worldly friend,’’ Jesse told Moses Hochstetler at the elder minister’s kitchen table, where they drank their coffee black.
‘‘What’s that?’’ Moses asked, struggling to hear.
Jesse thought of writing down what he wanted to discuss, that his daughter’s pen pal wished to come for a lengthy visit. And he sure wouldn’t want to tempt his youngest sons with a modern girl in the house.
He moved closer to the elder minister and proceeded to speak directly into his ear. ‘‘Our Annie’s got herself a worldly friend who’s lookin’ for a dose of the simple life.’’
A glint of recognition passed over the furrowed brow. ‘‘Ah, jah, she’s a right good one . . . your daughter.’’
‘‘I’d like to keep it that way,’’ Jesse muttered.
As if Moses had heard, he adjusted his glasses, studying Jesse. ‘‘What’s this ’bout an Englischer? She’s not comin’ to spy, is she?’’
Jesse reiterated that the girl, as far as he knew, was looking only for some respite from the world.
‘‘Well, sure. Why not have her come, then?’’
‘‘I’ve got myself three sons still in the house. It wonders me if it’s such a good idea to bring a fancy girl under my roof.’’ He pondered Yonie, especially, who seemed to be working his way toward the fringe. ‘‘Sure wouldn’t want my boys taking a shine to Louisa. We can’t be losin’ any more of our young folk.’’
Moses cupped his ear with his gnarled hand. ‘‘In all truth, the Englischer might just be the thing to push Annie off the fence, so to speak. Could be a wonderful-good idea.’’
Jesse couldn’t imagine such a thing.
‘‘Well . . . I know we must be patient with our youth.’’
Moses nodded his head, as though pondering further. ‘‘This worldly girl might be a godsend, the answer to your problem. Might move Annie closer to joinin’ church, her friend bein’ so interested in our way of life.’’
‘‘Hadn’t thought of that.’’
‘‘But I hope the outsider won’t cause any confusion in our midst, ’specially in your house, but that she’ll receive the peace she seeks,’’ Moses said. ‘‘I would also hope she might fit in with the womenfolk here . . . go along with Annie to market, quilting bees, and such.’’
Jesse finished his coffee, still thinking of Annie, who was not past her rumschpringe. He wished she would continue to attend the youth activities and find herself a new beau.
Getting up from the table, he waved his hat, thanking Moses for the coffee. He hurried out to his horse and carriage, anxious to return to his wife’s delectable beef stew.
Riding along the countryside, Jesse waved at acquaintances in several passing buggies. Then, once he’d passed the most worrisome intersection, he leaned back, contemplating Moses’ agreeable nature. Such a compassionate, upstanding man he was, but his days of prophesying were surely a thing of the past. Since taking a hard fall on the ice years back, not only had his hearing been greatly affected, but his ability to stand long enough to deliver the main long sermon had, as well. Old Moses, as some of the People referred to him, could no longer remember the required sequence of biblical stories and Scriptures to accompany them. So, then, was it even possible he was right? That spunky Annie might simply need to encounter firsthand a worldly friend to nudge her closer toward making her lifelong vow to God and the church? Only time would tell.